


Forged From Fire, Claimed By Ice

by superpotterwhorelock



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Game of Thrones - Freeform, Sad Ending, The Iron Throne, The Night King, The Throne Room, Unhappy Ending, Westeros, army of the dead - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 09:07:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17895593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superpotterwhorelock/pseuds/superpotterwhorelock
Summary: This post is kind of left up to the imagination. It is what I can picture being the worst ending for Game of Thrones.





	Forged From Fire, Claimed By Ice

**Author's Note:**

> It reads a bit weird. Almost like a script, but not totally.

**Setting the scene: the throne room. Only it is not the throne room we’ve seen so many times. It’s the throne room we’ve seen only once. The throne room born of Daenerys’s vision in The House of the Undying.**

Decimation coats the atmosphere like a fog. The snow drifts gently down through this fog, softly now that the hard battle is over.

There are no kings around. No queens to take the throne. It sits abandoned at the top of the long steps, dusted in white now.

No noise can be heard. You know how it is when winter has finally come? And the snowflakes are silent as they hit the ground? You know how it brings a sense of false peace?

Wind whistles through the empty space suddenly. It screeches like a threat along the cold expanse where fancy summer lords and ladies once stood. It carries on it a threat that has been carried out. And then the wind stops whistling and the room is silent once again.

Another noise arises now. There’s footsteps. They don’t echo through the throne room as they would have perhaps a year ago. No, they don’t echo because there is no ceiling for the echo to bounce off of. There is nothing up above save for grey skies and several poor attempts by a structure to remain standing, even after the dragon fire poured down on the Red Keep.

The footsteps are getting closer now. They crunch over the layer of snow.

A heavy pair of boots climb the stairs. No words are spoken. The feet take their methodical time approaching the throne. They reach the top step. Several steps more brings the pair to the edge of the most sought after seat in the country.

He arrives. He turns. He sits.

The Night King.

**Panning out, the camera angle reverses. Dramatic music, something similar to “The Army of the Dead” begins to play.**

The army of the dead has followed him into the throne room. They stand before him, awaiting orders. Their numbers much higher than they were the previous morning before the battle began.

**The scene cuts back to a full shot of him sitting on the throne.**

His unforgiving, frosted hand grabs the armrest of the Iron Throne. It begins to freeze underneath him; the bluish white ice crystals climb the metal like deadly vines. It is destructively beautiful.

The ice coats a throne born of fire. It is symbolic.

After all: when you play the game of thrones you win or you die.

He has won.

**The camera begins to zoom in ever closer on those familiar eyes.**

As the camera progresses, soon those eyes become the only thing taking up the frame. The shocking blue of them lightens as he finally smiles.

Westeros is his.

**The screen jumps to black and all music stops abruptly on one last drum beat.**


End file.
